[G] [C] 739.06.04 | Broken Hearted

He knocked on the door before him, never considering that his father might not be home. It was early afternoon and he knew B’jin didn’t have an active class at the moment, and he knew his father well enough to know he would have eaten lunch early; B’jin loved his food! In his hand, he held a piece of scrunched up parchment.

When it was R’nd who opened the door, N’mor looked up at his startled face with his own, ruined by tears and misery. His face and eyes were splotchy and red, tear streaks still glazed on his cheeks. His clothing was askew and clearly slept in, his hair a disaster atop his head. He hadn’t been able to find the strength to bathe, even though he wanted nothing more than to scrub the scent of T’ryn from his skin. But he was also loathe to lose that last trace of his best friend.

“Dad isn’t home?” He asked, his voice hoarse from spending the night crying brokenly. N’mor shoulders slumped and he hesitated, not sure what to do. He wanted to talk to his dad - he’d realised with a touch of terror that he didn’t have anyone to turn to. T’ryn had always been his rock, and he didn’t know how to function without him.

N’mor looked up at R’nd, heartbroken, grey eyes devoid of any emotion except pain and sorrow. He could see all the traces of T’ryn in the blue rider, and he bit his lip though he couldn’t stop the way his eyes flooded and tears tumbled down his cheeks.

“I ruined everything!” He sobbed, startling himself (and no doubt R’nd) by throwing himself forward and wrapping his arm around R’nd, clinging to him desperately as he cried, sobbing and struggling to breathe, face buried against the man’s chest. R’nd has been a constant in N’mor’s life for almost a decade; he squashed the fear that R’nd would toss him out when he learned what he’d done to his son.

Just because he hadn’t been expecting anyone that afternoon didn’t mean he also expected to have a quiet one. Friends were always dropping by and R’nd loved it. He was social by nature and if they didn’t come to him first, then he was likely seeking them out. Lately, though, he swore Indivara was coming to visit more than she usually did to either get advice on what to do with V’ler or to rant about something he did or didn’t do. R’nd was a bit worried that the emotional pregnant girl was coming by again when the knock came and wondered if he should get out some of the calming tea he kept on hand when he opened the door to find N’mor.

Shock didn’t quite cover what he felt when he saw the boy and he wasn’t even sure if was due to seeing N’mor instead of anyone else. R’nd took in the red eyes, blotchy skin, messy clothes and hair, and knew something was wrong. His first instinct was to find out who had attacked N’mor or to see if the boy had did what V’ler did not too long ago and fallen down some stairs, but the eyes and cheeks gave everything away before N’mor even spoke; not that it helped R’nd decipher any better what happened.

Before he could tell N’mor where his dad was and when he might be back, he suddenly had a crying teenager pressed against him as he sobbed about ruining everything. Instinct to return a hug and comfort someone in need had his arms going around N’mor before the shock truly set in about the fact that it was N’mor that needed the comforting. Knowing N’mor could be rather private, R’nd murmured for them to shuffle over just enough so that he could shut the door behind them. He didn’t think it’d help to have someone walk by and see the young bronzerider crying and looking for comfort over his problem.

R’nd wasn’t even sure he could help. Naturally he didn’t know the problem and hadn’t heard anything through the gossip about what N’mor may have done or ruined and there was a high chance he wouldn’t get anything out of the young man either. But the hug that threw him for a loop was also heart-warming. They never spoke that much; N’mor being quiet and observing while R’nd found N’mor liked to stare into his soul and creep him out. But he was B’jin’s son and T’ryn’s closest friend, he wouldn’t just sit across from N’mor as they silently waited for B’jin to eventually return from lunch and anything else that grabbed his attention.

“Your dad went to a late lunch and I don’t know when he’ll back,” R’nd spoke softly as he finally let go of N’mor so he could look at the teen again and offered him a small smile. “Let’s go sit down and have some wine. We both know where he keeps the Benden.” R’nd suspected B’jin still hadn’t figured out that N’mor liked to swipe a bottle from time to time since they could go through it themselves rather quickly but the bluerider was observant and caught when one was missing here and there. Not that he cared; Benden wine was a treat, especially growing up on Katila like their kids had. They deserved to experience true wine and skilled craftsmanship.

R’nd wrapped an arm around N’mor’s waist to guide him to the living room and urged him to sit in the chair the boy usually grabbed when he visited before going to get the wine and glasses. He supposed he could have grabbed that calming tea he had just been thinking about but R’nd knew the look in N’mor’s eyes, had seen it in himself once, after firelizards returned and B’jin left him. The boy was heartbroken and blaming himself. Tea wouldn’t do, but wine would help. Another glance to N’mor had R’nd grab the plate of cheese and bread that he had brought back with him earlier from his own meal to snack on later. It wouldn’t surprise him if N’mor confessed to not having eaten recently.

With a practiced ease of carrying the plate and two full glasses, R’nd returned, setting the plate on the table near N’mor before passing the teenager one of the glasses. He then, oddly, took the chair closest to N’mor instead of the couch where B’jin usually liked them to sit so he could curl up with him. “Tell me what happened.”

N’mor stumbled along when R’nd mumbled something about coming into the weyr, hearing the door close behind him through his sobs. He struggled to get himself under control, but every time he started to get a hang of his tears, and a breath without sobbing, some thought or memory interrupted his progress and he dissolved again. N’mor sniffled when R’nd stepped back and spoke. N’mor’s fingers relaxed the death grip he had on the back of R’nd’s shirt, and he sheepishly withdrew his arm, wrapping it around his waist pathetically in a one-armed self-hug.

“Oh,” he whispered, fighting the uncharacteristic feeling of being abandoned by his dad. B’jin was flighty, and N’mor had often heard his mother call the greenrider a ‘fair weather father’, but he’d never hesitated to be there for himself or his sister when they needed him, and N’mor knew first hand how fiercely protective his father was. If he knew he was upset, he wouldn’t be away from him. With that thought, Rhezalth reached out gently to Larrikith and asked her to pass on the need for B’jin back home, feeling the green’s consent and Rhezalth left the ledge of the old weyr he’d shared with N’mor before they transferred to Ista, and made his way to Larrikith and Ayyonth’s, though he wasn’t sure he’d fit in with them both. After a moment’s hesitation, he landed on the ledge above, in case he was needed.

A wry smile flickered over N’mor’s lips at the quip about the Benden wine, and he followed quietly alongside R’nd as the bluerider lead him over to the couch and bade him sit. He did as he was bid, curling miserably around one of the throw pillows that was on the seat, holding it on his lap and hugging it to himself. When R’nd returned with the wine and a snack plate, N’mor took the glass, but avoided looking at the plate, unable to throw the thought away that it had much the same contents on it as the one he’d brought to his old room for T’ryn and he to share… which had mostly ended up on the floor and strewn across the bedding.

“Thank you,” he said softly instead, taking a sip of wine with the same appreciation he’d learned from his father. When R’nd sat near him and asked he tell him what happened, N’mor paused with the glass halfway to his mouth. He stared at R’nd with horrified eyes for several moments, before grimacing and throwing back the rest of his glass of wine. An absolute waste of good quality Benden, but N’mor needed the strength it offered. He set the glass down on the floor by the side of the chair and rubbed his hand over his face. He was so tired!

“You’ll hate me,” he said softly, realising as he spoke the words how much R’nd’s good opinion of him meant to him. But it was more than that, too. “You can’t hate Dad,” he said, panicking and desperate as he looked up at R’nd with huge eyes, his face pale and sickly under the blotches. What is R’nd left his dad because he’d screwed things up with T’ryn? N’mor’s breath came in desperate gasps as he panicked, his chest tightening and making breathing hard. He’d had hundreds of panic attacks after losing his arm, and while he struggled to get himself under control, he did regain that control after a while, wild eyes staring at R’nd as the bluerider watched him; his calm quiet was helpful, though, and N’mor took a shuddering breath.

Standing up, he strode over to where R’nd had left the bottle and picked it up, striding back and slumping into the seat he’d vacated a moment prior. Picking his glass up and putting it between his knees, N’mor set about refilling it and then set the bottle down between the seats. He took a sip of the wine, delaying as much as he could. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell R’nd (well, he kinda didn’t) but he mostly didn’t want to talk about it at all. Ever. But he also did and it was all terribly confusing. N’mor sighed.

“We were in my old weyr,” he said softly. “I didn’t think T should travel and I wanted to talk to him, ’cause you know. We both won?” Frowning slightly, N’mor glanced up at R’nd to make sure the bluerider understood. N’mor hadn’t heard about any maiden Flights being won by first-time bronzes before (though he expected it had happened before Katila) and then he and his best friend had won the two most recent flights. He’d wanted to know if T’ryn’s experience had been the same or similar to his own.

N’mor twisted the wineglass stem between his fingers and thumb, watching the way the liquid danced. “He kissed me,” N’mor said quietly, not looking up from the glass he was still fidgeting with. “I… invited it.” But realising he hadn’t been the one to actually initiate the kissing or the things that followed confused N’mor. Why did T’ryn kiss him, if he was in love with Casa? Shoulders slumped, and N’mor closed his eyes in pain. T’ryn had even been the one that initiated the removal of clothing! “We…” He fell off; it was too painful to actually say – N’mor wanted to say they made love, but T’ryn clearly had been of the opinion that it was nothing more than a fuck… Besides. R’nd was a smart guy, he could fill in the blanks.

“Then he talked about Casa,” N’mor spat, jealousy and anguish thick in his voice. “We fought. He left.” He drank several mouthfuls of wine, wondering if the pair had cheaper stuff he wouldn’t feel guilty about guzzling and getting roaring drunk on. He’d really like to drink until he passed out, and then drink again when he woke up. N’mor grimaced; he was definitely his father’s son.

R’nd sipped his wine as he watched N’mor. He had never seen N’mor in such a state and it worried him and made him hope he could help in some way. The talk about hating him or B’jin had R’nd cocking his head to the side as his brows furrowed in confusion as he pondered that. “I don’t see how hating you would make me hate your father. I’m not even sure you could do something to make me hate you either, N’mor.” N’mor made him uncomfortable at times, especially years ago but it had lessened over the years. He was either immune to the stares now or N’mor didn’t do it as often. He’d have to try to keep any eye out for that to see which it was.

When the events slowly started to unfold, R’nd stayed quiet, silently urging N’mor to take his time. It was hard enough to relive something upsetting but telling it to someone else, especially when they weren’t the first choice was even worse. Honestly, R’nd was flattered that N’mor was opening up to him, showing a growth in their relationship and he hoped he lived up to the expectations that were no doubt set upon him now. At least he had some practice with counselling his young friends thanks to Indivara, T’bia, and even his sons. T’ryn had surprised him the most by asking for love advice when it came to Casa and all but actually wrote notes on what he had been told. Hearing now that T’ryn had kissed and apparently had sex with N’mor knowing the boy liked his goldrider and had just won another gold’s Flight was making the issue rather complicated.

At least he knew why N’mor worried he’d be hated since R’nd’s son was involved. This was going to be tricky. He believed full heartedly that the two young bronzeriders were ridiculously stubborn and heard what they wanted to hear – he did know their fathers after all – and that some sort of miscommunication happened. He delayed replying by sipping his wine again as he tried to find the best way to work out what happened and get the boys to talk again. They were both too sensitive and so completely dedicated to each other that R’nd wasn’t at all surprised that they had finally ended up in bed together. He was surprised it took so long, honestly. It was probably something to do with the colour of their dragons and expectations. No doubt T’ryn over thought everything as well and kept his distance.

Setting his glass down on the table, R’nd leaned over and, rather daringly considering the target, rested his hand on N’mor’s knee reassuringly. “I don’t hate you, N’mor, and I’ll do what I can to help fix this. First, though, we’re going to go through everything you remember, okay?” R’nd sat back again and picked up his glass, considering if he should have N’mor slowly walk him through the argument or just ask questions. He figured questions and theories might be best.

“Why did he bring up Casa? Knowing T’ryn, it was probably due to a lot of guilt, but did he explain?” If they fought about the goldrider, then it was obvious that it wasn’t some casual tumble into bed with a friend but something more between them. R’nd, at least in how he used to view the world, wouldn’t have had any issues them both on as lovers, so long as it wasn’t a serious relationship. Contrary to popular belief, he did have those as well. They never really lasted more than a few months before B’jin stole his heart but he dedicated his attention to that one person, never bed-hopping during their time together. Other than with Benden who had been conceived during a Flight, all of his children were from those types of relationships.

N’mor glanced at the hand that was on his knee, but didn’t do more than that. The gentle pressure was reassuring and somewhat grounding. He continued to fidget with the stem of his wineglass, a frown furrowing his brow. The relief that washed over him when R’nd said he didn’t hate him wasn’t at all subtle, and he stared up at the bluerider with wide, tearful eyes. N’mor didn’t think he’d ever cried so much in all his Turns combined, as he had in the past what… twelve hours? Ish?

An uncertain frown took over his features as R’nd said they’d go over everything that was remembered, and N’mor twisted his lips slightly. He was pretty sure R’nd didn’t mean everything, and even if he did, he was not getting those kind of details. That was just nasty! N’mor almost smiled, before R’nd narrowed in on a specific question, and N’mor’s features flattened. Eyes darkening with hurt, N’mor shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know.” He said, honestly. What had been said before they fought? N’mor frowned, staring down into the top of his wineglass.

“He said he’d worry about it tomorrow?” N’mor said, frowning as he had Rhezalth help him fish up the memories. He knew where they were, and didn’t have trouble finding them, but his dragon helped him focus on individual parts specifically and filter out the crap that wasn’t important. “He said I was a perfect bronzerider,” N’mor said, scoffing slightly. He was so far from perfect, though he certainly tried. It was important to strive for perfection, but he knew he’d never actually be perfect – he had a missing arm for fuck’s sake! “He said he was going to stay the night, but he wasn’t going to pick me.” N’mor said, heart breaking all over again.

N’mor looked up at R’nd desperately. “I told him it was different! I already have a fuck-buddy! He’s special. Why would he do that?” He had enough presence of mind to place the glass on the floor before he dropped it, wrapping his arm around his head and leaning forward as he gave in to the heartbreak again, crying softly.

R’nd still didn’t feel like he was getting the full story. He wasn’t even sure it was everything N’mor thought he heard either. How did being a perfect bronzerider link into his question about Casa? There had to be more but he didn’t press that statement. He didn’t touch upon the topic of the fuck-buddy either, mostly because he and B’jin had assumed it was a bit more than that. A secret lover, sure, but something more meaningful than just hooking up for sex when it was desired. R’nd did like the confirmation that T’ryn was more than that to N’mor and nodded lightly in agreement that his son was special.

What bothered R’nd the most was how T’ryn apparently wanted to stay with N’mor for the night but was going to pick Casa in the end. That didn’t sound the caring boy he had grown to know the last several years. Was it okay to voice such things to the broken hearted boy though? He was T’ryn’s father, N’mor would likely just assume he was defending his son.

Can you get B’jin back here?

No. He’s busy or something according to Larrikith. But you’re doing fine! Going off of Ayyonth’s amusement, R’nd really wasn’t that sure about how successful he was being or even how busy B’jin was. He dropped the subject though to ask for another favour.

He’s still here, isn’t he? R’nd believed full-heartedly that T’ryn was tucked away somewhere hiding from both N’mor and Casa until he drove himself crazy from the guilt. It wasn’t easy being a teenager from what he’d seen. Luckily for him, he had spent most of his teen years in Exile with only R’jit and Gamalieth. There had been rough patches but the usual teen drama between friends and lovers had been severely lacking in his life.

Ayyonth’s hesitation confirmed before he spoke that R’nd was right. He is. Syrendryth left Bedith a while ago but he’s resting in an empty weyr while T’ryn alternates between sleeping and staring lifelessly at the ceiling. Ayyonth was a rather relaxed dragon that enjoyed teasing others and even could find the humour in most situations, but he sounded upset by the report he relayed and R’nd wasn’t fond of it either. He told the blue to see if Syrendryth could get T’ryn to come over but left it alone otherwise. He still had to sort out what to do with N’mor.

“Did he say he wasn’t going to pick you? Or did he just want time to tell Casa about what happened and what he wanted? You’re not assuming he’d choose her over you, are you? Have you seen the way the two of you are when together?” R’nd was going off of assumptions, though. He simply couldn’t believe T’ryn would fuck his friend and ditch him and tell him it didn’t mean anything. There was clearly more and whether N’mor didn’t hear it or T’ryn didn’t say it, the truth had been lost between.

The time that R’nd took to talk to his dragon and figure out how to proceed gave N’mor time to pull himself together, his fingers buried in his hair and his entire being trying to shut down and just give up. His nose was all stuffy and his eyes were so itchy from all the crying. His hair felt oily and he just really wanted to drown himself in a hot bath and never come out ever again. Working hard to get himself together again, N’mor embraced the warm love of his dragon and sniffled, wiping his nose and brushing tears off his face. He took a deep breath, and breathed it out slowly.

N’mor lifted his head reluctantly when R’nd spoke, shaking his head at the words the bluerider gave life to. “I told him I love him,” N’mor whispered, staring up at R’nd, “And he walked out.” He swallowed, eyebrows furrowed and eyes sad. Why would T’ryn leave if he was going to pick him, after N’mor told him he loved him? Wouldn’t he have said something? He just… walked out. Hadn’t said anything at all. He had heard him mumbling to Rhezalth, but the dragon had said he was just saying goodbye, and that he’d promised to stay the in Telgar until he was rested. That had reassured N’mor a little – losing him hurt, but losing him permanently like that because of a bad jump? The thought even now made his entire stomach roil unhappily and N’mor went green.

Fighting down the queasiness that thought brought about, N’mor stared sadly at R’nd.

If T’ryn was anything like his father, then there was a good chance that the boy ran away from the love confession, afraid of the emotions it brought up, but R’nd wasn’t sure. Did T’ryn even hear the words? Maybe they were mumbled, maybe they followed or were followed by something that took away some of the meaning and warped it into something else. He’d never know and N’mor honestly wouldn’t either. He only saw and heard things from his side and wouldn’t know what it was like on the receiving end, just like T’ryn wouldn’t either. If he didn’t say anything and just left, perhaps he didn’t know what else to say. Maybe he was just defeated and felt like he had already lost everything. R’nd didn’t know and it was going to give him a headache.

He was close, so close, to getting one of the dragons to tell him where T’ryn was hiding so he could drag N’mor to him. R’nd wasn’t going to put a lot of stock in his son coming for a visit no matter what story was passed along to him. He wished he would. The boys needed to talk and resolve their issues before they went back to Ista. If they waited too long, the distance would only grow and make it harder for them to get back what was lost. If nothing else, R’nd didn’t want to see their beautiful friendship destroyed.

Another sip of wine was taken before the glass was set on the table and R’nd rose to his feet. He held out his hand and waited for N’mor to trust him enough to take it and when he did, the bluerider pulled what was essentially his stepson into another hug. The kid’s broken heart was breaking his own and R’nd almost wanted the hug as much as he suspected N’mor still needed it.

“N’mor, I’m going to be honest,” R’nd spoke softly as he continued to hold N’mor close to reassure him he wasn’t alone despite what his advice sounded like. “The only advice I can really give is what you already know and what you’re likely ignoring. You need to talk to him. One or both of you misunderstood something and you have to work it out. If you don’t, you’ll only grow further apart and I don’t want to see you lose each other.”

He hesitated in whether or not he should reveal T’ryn was still around and what that might do. He felt that it could help; T’ryn hadn’t run back to Casa, after all. “He’s still here, N’mor. He’s hiding and from what I hear, not doing much better than you are. He’s in an empty weyr but the dragons won’t tell me which one. Go find him, please. You’re going to drive yourself crazy if you don’t try one more time. Trust me.” Miscommunication with B’jin was a rather easy thing to do in the early days and it drove him crazy thinking about what he had done wrong and thinking about all the possibilities of what it could lead to. Talking it out helped every time and R’nd felt it made their relationship stronger. He just needed to get two wilful teenagers to believe it.

N’mor looked up at R’nd when the bluerider held his hand out to him, but he didn’t hesitate in putting his own in it, and allowing the man to pull him to his feet. N’mor was slightly taller than his father, but he had the gangly and youthful build of a teenager; he certainly felt like a lost child as he clung to R’nd, ear pressed to the bluerider’s chest so he could hear the soothing sound of his heart. He really wanted his dad, but he was glad R’nd hadn’t turned him away at the door, or when he found out how badly N’mor had fucked everything up.

When R’nd said he should talk to T’ryn, N’mor shook his head against R’nd’s chest, trembling. “I can’t,” he said softly, shaking his head again. He’d already bared his heart and soul, offered them on a platter to T’ryn and he’d just… And R’nd wanted him to go back and do it again? The pain, it hurt too much! N’mor didn’t think he’d ever be able to pick up all the pieces, how could he willingly offer them to be stomped on and made even smaller? “I can’t,” he whispered, agony in his voice. “He’ll do it again,” N’mor had never been afraid of T’ryn, and he’d certainly never been afraid of anyone else, but he’d also spent the Turns before R’nd watching his father beg N’mall not to hurt him – physically, emotionally – and the man promise, only to twist the knife when his father wasn’t looking.

That wasn’t to say N’mor didn’t want to save his friendship with his best friend; the idea of losing T’ryn entirely was worse than anything else N’mor had ever felt. But he was feeling weak, and vulnerable and – on top of everything else – N’mor had always had a thick streak of pride. He wasn’t the one that walked out the door, he wasn’t the one that turned his back, he wasn’t the one that didn’t say anything! Why did he have to be the one to seek out T’ryn? Shouldn’t it be T’ryn seeking him out?

In his heart, N’mor knew being the one to take the plunge first would be the bigger and better thing to do. But between his hurt and his pride, he just kept shaking his head against R’nd’s chest and struggling internally. His heart wanted him to, but his heart had never been strong enough to contend with his stubborn mind.

He knew the pain so well that N’mor was going through. R’nd recalled that bleak time after the firelizard incident where he didn’t want to see anyone, drank more than he usually did, and counted every hour that passed with B’jin not talking to him. It had been horrible but he had been too afraid to seek B’jin out and beg for his forgiveness and explain how he didn’t purposely Impress to Rell and how he had actually saved Amorandii from doing so. But he didn’t; he stayed on his couch in his small hut and drank alone. He didn’t want to see that happen with the boys but he wasn’t going to keep pushing for them to talk. At least not with N’mor. If he saw T’ryn, he’d talk with him and guide his son in the right direction.

“If he did it again, I doubt it’d be on purpose, but I understand, N’mor. It hurts and it’s terrifying to open up to someone like that and risk everything. Why do you think I never stayed long with someone before your father?” It was a softly spoken confession and R’nd surprised himself at saying it to N’mor of all people. They really had bridged some gaps and that gave him hope that the young bronzeriders would figure things out sooner than he had with N’mor.

“I love your father and I would and have risked my heart for his happiness and to work out miscommunication and wrong conclusions. It’ll hurt but that’s how you know you found the right person. You’ll know when it’s right to do the same with T’ryn.” It felt odd to give N’mor a glimpse into his soul, the soul he always thought the kid could see anyway. But the first heartache was the worst and he needed the extra guidance, even if something he said came back to haunt him in the future by a snarky N’mor that was back to his old self.

N’mor stood quietly, pressed against R’nd and trying to unwind and relax as he listed to the words his father’s mate spoke. Really, he knew R’nd was right, he did, but he couldn’t bring himself to find the courage to do as he suggested. Everything was so raw and pained and was a mess and N’mor had never felt less like himself than he did, clinging to a bluerider and finding his strength after crying far, far too much.

“I know,” he said softly, in response to R’nd’s stating he loved B’jin, and N’mor looked up at him quietly, eyebrows furrowed again, but he didn’t know what to say to him. He opened his mouth, trying to find the right words, and puffed out an irritated sigh that was interrupted by his father entering the weyr, guitar in hand and a cheerful smile on his lips. N’mor paused, blinking from where he was still hugging R’nd. He saw B’jin’s eyebrows lift up in mild surprise.

“Making a move on my lover?” The greenrider quipped, watching their reactions before bursting into laughter. N’mor’s nose scrunched up and he stepped back from R’nd, giving his father a disgusted look before B’jin seemed to notice his tear streaked features and his amusement died away. From the way his features twisted and he glared off to the side, he was berating Larrikith for not passing along word as he set his guitar gently in its place.

What? R’nd had it covered. You’re here now. Relax. The dragon bespoke everyone in the room, but both N’mor and B’jin ignored her; the man opening his arms and N’mor throwing himself at his father, clinging to him, though he didn’t cry.

B’jin manoeuvred them onto the couch and let N’mor drape himself across his father’s lap, like he had when he was six. B’jin held the teen, singing softly under his breath as he rocked N’mor, watching his son give in to the sleep he’d been denied that night. Once he was out cold, B’jin stood up, carrying N’mor’s dead weight so he could settle him on the couch in silence. He took the blanket from the back of it and draped it over N’mor before taking R’nd’s hand and ushering him into the bedroom so his mate could tell him what little he had gleaned of whatever had happened to N’mor.